


Together Or

by capitainpistol



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Codependency, Cousin Incest, F/M, Intimacy, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-24
Updated: 2016-07-01
Packaged: 2018-07-16 09:48:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7263007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/capitainpistol/pseuds/capitainpistol
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Sansa slowly twirled a cup of fermented milk in her hand, the strong Wildling stuff. “Do you believe it?”</i><br/> <br/><i>He dressed in front of her, too tired to be modest. “That we won, or that Rickon is dead? That Ramsay…”</i></p><p>  <i>“No. None of that. The Bael the Bard story. Because if the Long Night is true, then that story may well be true also, and you and I have Wildling blood.” She got up just as he knotted his pants together at the waist. “I used to ignore that one. The Rat King, too. The Night’s King. All the bad ones.” She smiled sadly and grabbed her dark fur-lined cloak. “The stories they’ll tell of us.”</i></p><p>  <i>Jon slipped his shirt on, over the stab wounds Sansa had been eying. “Nothing good, I imagine.”</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Sansa had wanted to sleep, put the night behind them, but Jon couldn’t risk the bodies rising. The twilight hours were spent piling up the bodies in the blood-sowed battlefield. 

Wildling men, Baratheon men, Night’s Watchmen and tired Winterfell loyalists gathered Bolton’s dead. Melisandre sang her song, and they watched a storm turn its heavy weight west, as if avoiding the night fire that lit a new dusk in the sky.

Jon left the baths more tired than he arrived. The heat of Winterfell’s walls sheltered him from the bitter cold, but the flames of the torches still scattered against the dry wind. 

He wasn’t surprised to find her waiting in his quarters. His old quarters. The one he’d spent most of his time wishing he was somewhere else, and now couldn’t bare to leave.

Sansa sat, slowly twirling a cup of fermented milk in her hand, the strong Wildling stuff. “Do you believe it?”

He dressed in front of her, too tired to be modest. “That we won, or that Rickon is dead? That Ramsay…”

“No. None of that. The Bael the Bard story. Because if the Long Night is true, then that story may well be true also, and you and I have Wildling blood.” She got up just as he knotted his pants together at the waist. “I used to ignore that one. The Rat King, too. The Night’s King. All the bad ones.” She smiled sadly and grabbed her dark fur-lined cloak. “The stories they’ll tell of us.”

Jon slipped his shirt on, over the stab wounds Sansa had been eying. “Nothing good, I imagine.”

He almost made her laugh, but his weariness was infectious. 

“Stark, Baratheon and the Knights of the Vale,” she said, shoving the cup into his chest. “All we need now is a Targaryen.” 

Jon downed the rest of the milk. “What are you doing here, Sansa?”

Sansa smiled and said nothing for a time, but then, surprisingly, she wrapped her cloak around Jon’s shoulders. “We are expected.” She took his arm and swung the door open with her other.

They walked in silence to the Great Hall, meeting bowed heads along the way. Jon wasn’t used to such deference, and had even slowed down his step. If it bothered Sansa, she did not say. 

An enthusiastic morning crew clinked pewters and broke their fast, men from all camps. Like them, they hadn’t slept a wink and chose to get drunk with at least some food in their bellies. Way at the head was the dais, where a the largest chair at the center awaited the master of Winterfell.

Jon gulped down. A hundred dreams rushed to his head in one long, painful memory.

Sansa tightened her hold on him, her kind eyes keeping him steady.

As if from smoke, their closest allies gathered behind them. The little Lyanna Mormont taking precedent, then Tormund, representing the Wildlings, Melisandre the Red Priestess, and Davos of the young House Seaworth. 

“No pressure. Just pacts a thousand years in the making,” Sansa said, squeezing his arm again. 

Jon smiled back. “No pressure.”


	2. Chapter 2

The screams woke Winterfell. A man caught on fire, spilling out of the granary. Six men and Brienne took him down with their cloaks, into the stables and away from anyone he could hurt.

Sansa rushed to the stores.

Jon came out of the dust and grime with two of his men. “The horses?” He asked.

Brienne answered from behind Sansa. “They’re safe. Tormund is feeding them now.” She took a moment before continuing. “He was a hedge knight. They can’t identify the crest.”

Jon tried removing the soot off his eyes, but only managed to make it worse. “He will still be cremated. Take him to the Hill.”

Any more smoke and Winterfell will be covered in an eternal dark, thought Sansa. That might come in their favor soon. 

Sansa turned to Brienne when the woman didn’t leave. “He needs to be cremated.”

Brienne tilted her head towards the smoke filled rooms where all of their sustainable food had been kept. “How much did we lose?”

“Enough to make us worry,” said Jon. “Not enough to panic just yet.”

“The horses are well,” said Sansa. “We can hunt in the godswood after you return from the Hill, Lady Brienne.”

Brienne’s hand tightened on her stunning, Lannister sword. “If we burn any more, they’ll start to think we’re doing it for fun.” She stepped forward, right beside Sansa. “How did this happen?”

Davos walked up behind them, hands together at his back. “Melisandre cursed the door. It backfired, for lack of better terms.”

“Magic,” Sansa said. 

For a brief moment, she locked eyes with Jon.

Jon evaded her touch on his way to the courtyard. “I’ll get the horses ready with Tormund. Anyone not there in a hour gets left behind.”

An hour later, Jon was at the head in the exit to the wolfswoods with Tormund restless on a warhorse. 

Smog off the Hill turned the clouds to a murky gray, looking as if any moment it might rain. 

He heard the dogs first. Ramsay Bolton’s gang of flesh eating hounds bounded up alongside Ghost. They looked plump and mean, ready for a run, but their growls towards the direwolf were taken in stride. Ghost was three times their size. 

Sansa came from the stables on a gelding. A slow trot gave her time to slip on gloves. Once surrounded by the hounds, she picked out bacon rations from a sleeve in her cloak and tossed enough pieces to go around. The hounds came up for more, and Sansa was doubly generous, giving each hound one extra strip.

Jon recalled there had been at least seven of the beasts. “What happened to the others?”

“Three’s perfectly adequate number of them to have around,” Sansa said, reining her horse beside him. 

Riding straddled, she kicked her heels into the gelding’s thigh and took off in front of them.

Brienne trotted up next, in a warhorse similar in size to Tormund’s. A group of Vale men and their well-fed horses joined them minutes later, at the tail end of the hour. As promised, Jon came up last and instructed the temporary horse master, a man he did not know, to tell Winterfell the Lady was on a hunt to replenish the destroyed stores.

The hounds followed Sansa and scared everyone else away. 

“Feeding them defeats the purpose, you know,” he told her, hours into the hunt, when they were alone.

“No sense in all of us going hungry.”

Ghost nibbled at her hand, growling at the hounds to stay away. The hounds were devoted to their new mistress and growled back.

Sansa fed Ghost directly from her hand and only had to lean down slightly to scratch the direwolf’s neck and massage his ears. The massive creature purred, its red glowing eyes closing.

Jon sat uncomfortably in his saddle. “I don’t like them around you.”

“The hounds or Baelish and the Knights of the Vale?”

Jon looked at her closely, unsure if she was teasing him. “Both,” he answered.

 

Sansa kicked her gelding towards the barking hounds, who had grown restless for touch. Ghost followed closely at her side. “I’ve got my brother to protect me.” 

They returned by midday, their bags not empty, but not bulging or bloody. No one dared break the cycle of duty and commitment, going on with their work without complaint, but the granary had left a black mark. Soon the wolfswood would be completely empty and they’d have to start eating the horses.

Sansa led the hounds to the kennels herself, and Jon didn’t see her again until supper. Underneath the dais, taking up nearly all the table below, sat Ghost, his head lolling on Sansa’s lap, her hand scratching his neck.

Petyr Baelish approached, and Ghost snapped up, earning a wail of laughter from everyone around. Sansa quieted the direwolf and accepted Petyr’s presence at her side.

Jon left and waited in the master’s quarters for her to return. He did not have anything to drink, just the cloak she had lent him days before. 

“I sent Ghost to look for you,” she said when she entered at the end of the night.

“He likes you.”

“I like him.”

Jon smiled, rose and walked to her with the cloak. “How’s the gossip?”

“Enough to make us worry,” she said cheekily. “Not enough to panic just yet.”

“Same as before then…”

“Not the same,” she said confidently. Jon looked at her carefully, and she continued. “Melisandre. They’re all afraid of her. What’s the point of bringing you back if you you’ll die of hunger.”

“We need her.”

“We have the Wall. We have wildlings. Sam will return with all the knowledge of the Citadel behind him. We don’t need her.”

Jon considered her words. “I can’t just send her away. You know that.” He stood close and touched her arm. After a silence, he kissed her cheek. “Would you like Ghost to sleep with you?”

Sansa held him by his doublet before he could walk away. “No, I don’t.”

Her fingers worked at buttons, undoing them one at a time. “Sansa…”

“ _What are you doing here? What do you want? What are you doing?_ ”

Jon stopped her hands from reaching the knot of his breeches. “This is what you want to become. Like them. Like the Lannisters.”

Sansa’s small smile took him by surprise. “You know the Lannisters.”

“I know what I’ve heard.”

“You think Cersei Lannister was evil because she fucked her brother?” 

Jon had never heard her curse before. “You’re going to tell me she was evil and she fucked her twin? Nothing to do with the other.”

“I’m going to tell you that I understand now.” She removed his doublet off his shoulders. “I understand how you flinch when you’re touched. How cold you are. How much it scares you. How alone you feel in a room full of people who are supposed to love you, who betrayed you. Over and over and…”

A soft moan escaped her throat and a rough purr left him when their lips met. 

“Touch me,” she said against his ear. “Stay with me tonight.”

His head pressed against her cheek. “We can’t…”

Her hands pulled at his tunic and caressed his sides. “You’re not cold at all.”

Jon pulled his head back. “Sansa. I may not be human anymore. I don’t even know if I can…”

Sansa slipped her hand in between his legs and grabbed him. Jon straightened, mouth gaping open. Long, languid strokes made him hard. He kissed Sansa with eyes closed shut, and they fell onto the massive bed nearly biting at each others lips.

“Touch me,” she pleaded, her breath hot in his ear.

Jon slipped his hand up her dress as she stroked him. They were locked together, eye to eye, mouth to mouth, fucking each other with their hands. Jon rubbed at her clit, foregoing entering her with his fingers when her moans became louder. 

She came first, and Jon had to stifle her scream with his hand coated in her slick. He gestured to the door. Who knew who was listening.

Her head dropped back. “And you?”

“Don’t worry about me.” 

There was a raking on the door. Sansa quickly jumped off the bed and adjusted her dress. She opened the door to let Ghost in. He jumped right to the bed and nuzzled against Jon. 

He kissed Ghost’s head, the most affectionate he’d been with the direwolf in months, and left him there, lolling on the side of the bed he had just been. No goodnights this time. Just her smile, soft and knowing. 

He understood now, too.


End file.
